The Singer Sisters
by Lost in desolation
Summary: Clara Singer is the third, and youngest daughter of the Singer family. Her father Bobby is dead, and now she lives with her oldest sister Elsa and their middle sister Noel. She is no ordinary hunter. She has visions, but they center around one person in particular. Adam: Dean and Sam Winchester's younger half brother, and according to them, he doesn't exist on Earth anymore.
1. Chapter 1

Clara is my name, and don't wear out to the point of where I'm gonna have to change it. Anyways, I'm the youngest of the Singer sisters. Yes, _the_ Bobby Singer is my pa, but sadly, he has passed on and it's just me, my oldest sister Elsa, and our middle sister Noel. Elsa and I hunt sometimes, but Noel is finally getting her chance to go to college, and I guess that's one of the only upsides of pa being gone. One of the _only_ upsides for sure.

Now, it was a normal day in the Singer household. I was downstairs making breakfast in the kitchen. Elsa had finally rolled in that morning, her dark hair all mussed up, and her favorite red lipstick was smeared across her face. I knew she had been on a hunt, and it was probably a hunt with a happy ending as I liked to call her endeavors.

Noel sat at the table, across from Elsa, with her nose shoved into a book. Her hair was in a messy, dishwater-blond bun, and her black glasses were sliding down her nose. Like usual she was in her own little world.

I sighed, and slid them both their scrambled eggs and bacon before sitting down with my cereal and coffee.

Elsa looked at me funny, her brown eyes snapping curiously. "You're still doing the whole vegetarian thing, aren't you?"

I nodded, and took a swig from my brown coffee mug. "Weird," she muttered in response, brushing her long, soft brown hair out of her face. Then she picked up her fork and started eating. "You're missing out," she said after a few moments of silence. "I don't know how you can do it, Clara-Bear."

"Ew," I said, wrinkling my nose in distaste. "Please, don't call me that."

Noel looked up from her book, her pink lips curving up into a small smile. "Aw, but Clara-bear."

I rolled my eyes, and went back to my coffee and cereal. We were silent. That is, until-

BANG! We all shot out of our chairs at the noise, and Elsa pulled out her gun. She was very paranoid, and I mean _all_ the time. Noel's blue eyes scanned the room quickly, and frantically. It was morning, but it was cloudy out. I could tell because of the window above the sink.

"I'm going into the entryway to see what's up," Elsa whispered to us, practically hissing.

"Let me go with you," I argued quietly, setting my jaw and crossing my arms over my chest.

"No," Elsa snapped, easing towards the door of the kitchen, starting to nudge it open with her foot. "I'm the oldest, and I'm taking care of both of you!"

"I'm taller," Noel muttered, looking down at the table.

"Oh can it, Noel," Elsa shot back, exiting through the kitchen's swinging door. I blew my hair out of my face, and followed her anyways. She glared at me over her shoulder, but continued towards the entryway.

We crept through the living room silently. I stayed away from her at least a foot, and she had the gun raised and pointed, ready to shoot anything that popped out at us. I turned and found that Noel was behind us. I smirked at her. It was just like old times.

We swung around the corner, and someone shouted. My sister was ready to shoot, but I slammed her into the wall.

"Sam?!" Noel squeaked incredulously from behind us. I looked up, and the moose of a man was standing in front of me. His brother was thrown over his shoulder. They both looked pretty banged up. Noel fluttered past us, and Elsa shoved me off of her.

"What the hell happened?" Elsa barked as they helped Sam lug Dean inside. I squeezed around them to shut and bolt the door. When I turned around, they were already hauling him up the stairs. I bit my lip, and groaned, before padding back into the kitchen to find the homemade first aid kit.

* * *

When I came upstairs, Noel and Sam were standing outside of Pa's old room, talking quietly, their heads bent together. I nodded to them, and sneaked past, and into the room. Elsa sat on the bed beside Dean, holding his hand. He was unconscious, and blood soaked his head down to the white t-shirt he was wearing under his flannel one. When I entered, she quickly took the box from me, and sent me away. I sighed, and slipped around Sam and Noel once again, before heading to my own room.

My room was across the hall, and after I shut the door, I locked it, and shuffled inside. It was small, but doable. I had had it since I could remember, and back when. . . my mother was alive. Thankfully, my sisters never entered my room. If they did, they would think I was crazy because every inch of my walls are covered in drawings and paintings. They're all the same person too. Adam Miligan. Trust me, I am not a crazy stalker. I'm a psychic, and for some reason, all of my dreams are Adam's tortures. The torture he suffers everyday with Lucifer and Michael in the pit. It's terrible, the things he goes through. Luckily, I only see portions of it. When he was on Earth, I knew him for but a moment, and he was tortured, but then again, so are all Winchesters.

I wandered to my bed, and threw myself down on the mattress. My ceiling was starting to be covered as well. My most recent fit (fits usually happen when I'm sleeping, and I wake up only to draw my visions) was a colored pencil drawing of him in shackles, and it was terrifying. His body was warped , and his bones jutted out at odd angles. A sheen of sweat covered his body. His chest was bare of clothing, but scratches, scars, and throbbing, oozing sores covered him. His eyes were closed, but his mouth was twisted into an agonized scream. Why I kept these drawings, I don't know. It gave me a sense that I wasn't just having dreams, and that something so detailed couldn't happen in my imagination alone. It almost helped, but having these visions were starting to wear me down. I was starting to fear for my own sanity.

"Clara!" It was Noel, and she was banging on the door. I flew up, and yanked myself off of the bed. "Clara! Open the door! We need you for a bit!" I padded across the room, and it hit me for a moment, we were hosting two extremely attractive men, and Noel and I were still in our pajamas.

I swallowed down my unease, and unlocked the door, but only opened it a fraction so that she could see my face and my eyes; not my room. "Why?"

Noel blew out a long sigh. "Okay," she mumbled, leaning forward as if someone besides me would hear her, but I had a feeling that everyone else was downstairs. She licked her lips, and rubbed her neck. "I kind of asked Sam if he wanted a cappuccino, but you know how that ended the last time I tried to use the machine, and I. ." She blushed, and bit her lip. "I don't want to embarrass myself in front of him. You know how good I am at that, Clara."

I rolled my eyes for what seemed like the thousandth time that morning. "Let me get dressed, and I'll be down there in a minute."

Noel jumped up and down a bit, clapping her hands. "Yay! Thank you!" When she left, I locked my door again, and changed into dark jeans, my favorite pair of boots, and an artsy t-shirt Pa had bought me while he was on a hunt with the boys. It was black with Van Gogh's Starry Night printed on the front of it.

* * *

In the kitchen, Sam and Noel sat at the table. They were talking about something that was flying _way_ over my head as I made three cappuccinos for us. As I brought the third one to the table, and set it down, my head started to pound. I rubbed my temples and sat down across from them. Noel stopped mid-sentence and cocked her head at me. Her blue orbs were curious. Sam stopped too, and swung his head towards me. His brown eyes looked more haunted than ever.

"Are you okay, Clara?" Sam asked, leaning forward.

I nodded, and gave a bit of a forced smile. "Uh, yeah." Another wave hit my head, and I squeezed my eyes shut. My _God_ it hurt.

"Clara-bear?" Noel wheezed out. Her chair scraped back, and it was like something stabbing my ear drum with multiple needles.

"Don't call me that, Nolly!" I seethed between my clenched teeth. Even in pain I managed to tease my sister with her own childhood nickname. I wished I could see the look on her face, but another wave of stabbing pain hit the middle of my forehead. An image was starting to penetrate my vision, but it hurt so damn much.

Suddenly, I was outside. It was daylight; early morning to be exact. The horizon was gray with bits of pink, and orange across the clouds. The grass I landed on was soft, and was damp with dew. It glistened when the light touched it. I was standing in an empty field. And as I scanned it, something was tugging at the corner of my consciousness. No, not something, someone.

I looked down, and almost shrieked. At my feet, was Adam. I fell to my knees, and looked down at him. He was out cold. I tilted his chin up, my choppy hair fell in my face. His jaw was a geometric perfection, and his short hair, a beautiful multicolored blond. He laid on his back, and I touched his cheek. His light, vivid blue eyes snapped open, and he looked up at me. Almost instantly he almost seemed to recognize me. "Clara?" he practically whimpered. He looked so pathetic and torn. "I'm alive." He laughed. "I'm alive, and away from them." He smiled. "Come get me."

"But I don't know where you are," I argued.

"They'll know." Then he closed his eyes again.

Just like that it was gone, and I was on the tiled floor of my kitchen with Noel and Sam leaning over me, their brows wrinkled with worry.

"Clara-bear!" My sister screamed. "Oh sweety, are you okay? You've been out for five minutes!"

I struggled to sit up on my elbows, but Sam gently pushed me back. "You might not want to get up yet," he warned. "You fell on the floor, and laid there muttering. . ." He paused, and looked warily at Noel who was on my other side. "You were muttering the name 'Adam.'"

I nodded eagerly. "Yeah," I said without breaking Sam's gaze. "Because he's alive."


	2. Chapter 2

"Let me get this straight," Sam said, dragging a hand over his face. All three of us stood in the middle of my room, and now I couldn't meet there eyes. "Clara, you can see the future, and you've never told anyone?"

I nodded, and scratched the back of my head uneasily. "That about sums it up," I mumbled, keeping my eyes trained on the floor. "Ever since I was ten years-old." I couldn't look at him, and I definitely couldn't look at Noel. She looked so accusing, and. . . angry. "When Adam was thrown into the pit with Michael and Lucifer, they got stronger, a-a-and worse." I shuddered, and tears pricked at the corner of my eyes as flashes of the thousands of visions I had seen in the last couple of years shot through my memory. They all burned like a hot brand pressed to flesh. "You were in the pit, Sam," I nearly whispered. "You know how horrible it was, and now he's out. We _have_ to get him."

"Why do you care so much?" Noel snapped. I blinked at her. Why _did_ I care so much? I had only met him once when he was alive, and I didn't start caring about him until the visions began. "_Why do you care?"_ She barked at me.

I set my jaw, and stepped forward, craning my neck back to look up at her. She was shaped like mom, but oddly tall. Which was weird because neither of our parents had been all that tall. If anything they had been an average size, but this wasn't the case for Noel. She was only a bit shorter than Sam. "And why do you _care_ so much about him?" I jerked my head towards Sam, and Noel blushed furiously. Her slim face was completely red. "_Exactly_," I hissed. "You don't have an answer, Noel." I turned and looked at Sam who seemed a little stunned at my words himself, even a little embarrassed. "You just do. Now, if we leave Elsa with Dean, she'll take care of him until we're back." I turned to face Sam. "How long of a drive will it be?"

Sam sighed. "If we drive straight through tonight, we could make it there by early morning." Sam's face was blank, and Noel was radiating waves of fury, most likely towards me for blowing her crush on Sam.

"Sam, this is crazy," Noel said, turning away from me, and looking up at him. Her blue eyes were huge and pleading behind her glasses. She brushed his bare arm lightly, and he gave her his famous puppy eyes. I averted my gaze, and had the odd notion that I was intruding on something. "Adam is dead," I heard her whisper.

"Well," he replied. "I've been dead multiple times, and so has Dean, Noel." I had the feeling he grabbed her hand. "And Adam has easily come back from the dead once. Why can't he do it again?" There was a pause. "He is a Winchester after all."

Noel sighed. "I guess we're going then."

I jerked my head up, and they were indeed holding hands. I rested my hands on my narrow hips, and looked at them sideways. "Really?" I practically shrieked.

"Really." They both said. I grinned, and glomped my sister.

"Thank you," I murmured into her ear. "Thank you so much."

She hugged me back, before pulling away and looking at me sideways. "Quiet kiddo, before I change my mind. Now," she patted me on the back. "Go tell Elsa, and," she turned to Sam, pressing her lips together before speaking. "Umm, when can we leave?"

Sam looked down at his watch, and nodded before pushing his long, brown hair out of his face. "We've got a couple hours, and I want to run this by Dean after he wakes up, which could be anytime now." He straightened his red, flannel t-shirt, and pushed his sleeves up even further. "We'll leave by sunset." Then Noel, and Sam left my room. I plopped down onto my bed, and ran my hand through my red hair. How was I going to pass the rest of the day like this? I was so close, and yet so far away from ending this madness with Adam. The thing that was bothering me was that I had admitted to my sister that I cared about him. Did I care, or did I just want him out of my head? Did I just want the horrors to stop? What was happening to me?

With a deep, steadying breath, I pulled myself off of my black comforter, and off of the bed. Then I left my room, and went to Pa's. Elsa hadn't left Dean's side since he was brought in. I pursed my lips, and knocked on the door frame. Elsa's head snapped up, and I stepped inside, shutting the door behind me. Dean was cleaned up now, and a bandage was wrapped around his head. He wore a new shirt, and his head was rested in her lap as they sat on Pa's old bed. She was fussing with his hair a bit, flattening it back with her hand, and running her fingers through it's sandy tones.

"Has he woken at all?" I said in a hushed tone, sitting on the wooden floor in front of the bed.

Elsa shook her head and I could tell she was biting back tears. Ever since we were children, and when we first met Sam and Dean, Elsa has loved Dean. I think he's the only man that ever caught her attention for longer than a night. Dean Winchester was the only constant male in Elsa's life, and even he wasn't around all the time.

I leaned back on my hands. "So, you and Deaner are gonna get some alone time," I told her, craning my head back to look at her.

"What are you talking about?" Elsa narrowed her eyes, absentmindedly holding Dean closer to her.

"Noel, Sam, and I are going to pick someone up a few states over." Elsa raised one of her dark, elegant eyebrows at me. "You'll understand when we get back. I just need you to trust me on this one, Elsa." She narrowed her eyes, and pursed her lips, but didn't say anything. I held my breath, and swept my long, straight, dark-red hair into my hands, wrapping the hairband I had on my wrist around it, and flipping it up into a bun. I licked my lips, and tried to think of something to say. I tapped my chin with my turquoise painted nails. "You're not questioning me?" I asked, my voice raising an octave.

"Nope," Elsa responded, rolling her leather-jacketed shoulders back, and flipping her hair over her shoulder. "I don't even want to know, Clara. Secrets, when it comes to you, usually terrify me."

"What a nice place to wake up," Dean said smugly from Elsa's lap. He sounded exhausted, but just like his pervy self.

She smirked down at him. "I'm sure it is, cowboy."

I quickly stood. "Aaand this is my cue to leave." They both laughed as I practically ran to the door.

* * *

A few hours later, I was in the backseat of the impala, and the sun was sinking over the horizon as we drove down the interstate. I laid my head back on the leather, finding it odd that Sam was driving. He and Noel were holding hands, and talking so quietly I couldn't hear them over the murmur of the classic rock station were listening to. It was pleasant, and I decided I should try to get some sleep before we made to the location of Adam's own form hell.

For the first time in months, I didn't have a vision, and instead I dreamed of surprisingly decent things. My mother was in one, for instance, and we were making Christmas cookies with my sisters. I think it was the last Christmas we had with our mother. Pa came in through the kitchen door, and he was smiling. It was nice to see them together again, even though I was only dreaming. If he were alive, it would still haunt him that he had killed her twice. Twice with good, just reasoning, and it still would have slowly killed him inside.

"Clara-Bear," someone cooed. I waved my hand at the voice. "Clara! We're here and you're still sleeping! _Get _up!" I slowly pealed my eyes open. We were parked in a field of green. The sky was gray, with bouts of pink and orange. I sat up, and noticed that Noel was now in the driver's seat, and that Sam was just starting to stir. With a small yawn, and a stretch, I opened the door of the impala, and stepped out.

A soft breeze blew loose tendrils of my hair around my face, and reached behind my head and pulled it out of its knotty bun. I shook it loose, and let it fall down my back, scanning the ground. As I walked a few feet, my gaze surveyed the land. A few, gnarly trees littered the field in random places, and although it was mostly flat, it rose and fell, dipped and bowed in few spots. After a few moments of walking, Sam called to me.

"Over _there_!" He pointed to a shallow dip, and I strode to it as fast as I could without looking incredibly hurried.

When I got there, I looked outwards, and then gazed down. I gasped. Adam was there, his eyes were closed, his face a bit bloody and turned to the side, his hands laid on his chest, and his legs were spread out in opposite directions. I shot down to my knees, and felt the side of his neck for a pulse. I nearly shouted for joy when it was there, strong and insistent.

"Adam," I whispered, cautiously pulling his face up. He groaned, and I rested my other hand on his cheek. "Geez. Please wake up!" I heard people running behind me. It was Sam and Noel. They stopped above me. "Adam!"

He shifted, and slowly his eyes opened; blue with a grayish tint. "Clara. . ." His voice was croaky, and it sounded like it hurt for him to speak. He tried to sit up, and I stopped him, shaking my head. Adam laid his head back, his mouth twitching into a grimace for a split second. "How. ." He squeezed his eyes shut, and bit his lip. "You did it," he said in a husky pant.

"What?" I asked, taking his hand. "What are you talking about?"

"You got me out," he smiled; a tired, and weary lift of his lips.

"How?" He shrugged, and I could tell he was starting to lose consciousness. "Adam!" His eyes slid shut, and I called for Sam and Noel over my shoulder. They came, and we carried him to the car. Sam drove, and Noel sat in the passenger's seat. I sat in the back with Adam's head rested in my lap. He was out of the pit, and somehow he thought it was because of me. As we drove, the sun was rising fast, and we were zooming out of countryside and towards the hospital.

"Why do I care so much?" I whispered, running my hand through his soft hair. He was sleeping, and he actually looked comfortable, and somewhat at peace. I couldn't tell what was going on, but I felt something stirring, and although I wasn't quite sure what was going to happen after Adam was okay again, I could feel in the bottom of my stomach that something ominous was brewing.


	3. Chapter 3

Noel and Sam were talking outside of Adam's hospital room. Elsa and Dean now knew the full story because I had called them, and to be honest, now that Dean was up and about, he wasn't too happy about any of it. Not at all.

Adam's room was small, and clinically white. At the moment, he was still sleeping. I sat by his bed, and scrolled through my phone. I was trying to research, but I couldn't find anything as an explanation to why he was out of the pit. It certainly hadn't been an angel who had pulled him out; the area wasn't flattened like a freaking bomb went off. With a sigh, I pocketed my phone and rested my elbows on my knees. At least he looked better than he had earlier. The doctor said that aside from a few minor bruises and cuts, that he would be fine. We could leave that night if he woke up. Apparently he was just overly exhausted. I watched him with my amber eyes, and I felt as if I couldn't process anything. I was happy that he was safe, for now, and that I wouldn't have to see him being tortured every night while I slept. Really, it was like lifting a weight off of my chest.

"Clara," my name escaped his lips a few moments later. I jerked up, and pulled my wooden, padded, hospital chair closer to him.

"I'm here," I said, only loud enough for him to hear it. I pushed my hair behind my ear. "Do you need anything? Water? Food?'

"A hug would be nice," he muttered, opening his eyes, and slowly turning his head towards me. He was grinning, a lopsided, and utterly exhausted grin, but it was there, bright and true.

"What?" I blinked.

"A hug," he replied, pulling himself up as best as he could. His eyes wavered as he watched me, and I shook my head before giving into his request. He closed his arms around me. It felt odd, fitting into his side like a puzzle piece. I rested my head in the crook of where his neck and shoulder met. Then my arms snaked together around his head. His touch was gentle, and his arms strong. It was hard to believe he used to be a premed student, and now he was a man who had climbed out of the pit alive. He hugged me tighter and I let him. I felt he would break if I pushed him away. "I wouldn't have survived hell if it weren't for you," he breathed, right into my ear. "You were my only beacon of hope in that dark place."

"What do you mean?" I said into his green t-shirt, which smelled like the outside, but also like mustiness and charred skin. "Adam, I don't know what you're talking about."

He pulled away from me a bit, his eyes searching, and his dark eyebrows furrowed. "Didn't you see me every time I saw you?" He pressed his lips together, and looked me up and down. "You had to have seen them, or you wouldn't have come for me this morning." His gaze was hard and steady; it made my heartbeat pick up a bit.

"Yeah, okay," I said, not realizing I had been holding in my breath. "I did. I just guess I didn't realize that you saw me too. . ." I cocked my head at him, and he nodded with a large grin, but then it slowly faded.

"You've been seeing that for two years. . ." He trailed off, and with sad eyes, I took his hand. "It must have been terrifying."

I nodded, but my lips pulled wryly up at the corners. "It must have been agonizing to go through."

Adam gave a short, staccato chuckle. "Yeah, but you kept me from losing it. Knowing that I could see one piece of the outside world everyday kept this," he tapped his forehead lightly with his index finger. "From ditching me in that hell hole." He sighed. "_Literally._"

I found myself tracing the lines of his palm, and my cheeks burned when I realized what I was doing. Like his hand was a hot dish, I dropped it, and looked away from him, and at the white, cold, tiled floor.

Adam's rough, callused hands took mine back. "Hey," he said, compelling me to look back at him. He was beaming, and it made my already pink cheeks intensify in temperature. "I don't mind. It's probably hard to believe that I'm here and in the flesh." I nodded, too shy to say anything, and Adam's smile slowly faded. "Clara," he sighed, and scooted over on his bed, leaving enough room for my small body to rest beside him. "We both seem like we need some sleep."

"But we can leave since you're awake now," I slightly protested, starting to get out of my seat. "I can go get Sam, and my sister an we-" I squealed as he tugged me onto the bed by my waist, and I almost landed on him. "Adam!" I couldn't help but giggle. I was practically on top of him. I tried to roll away, but he gently held me against him. I stopped, and simply watched his steely, blue-gray eyes. Our faces were blank, but his eyes held something I couldn't detect. Tenderness? Our faces bent closer together; lips barely an inch apart.

"Jesus Christ, Clara. The man just barely got out of hell and you're already on top of him!" I jerked away from him, almost falling off of the bed, but he caught me, and pulled me back into his side.

I could hear the smirk in his voice. "Long time no see. Noel, right?" His voice vibrated against my chest, and I swear the heat from my cheeks now covered my entire body. I twisted to see my sister, glaring at us with her hands on her hips. My hands were smashed into Adam's chest, and my legs tangled in his to keep me from falling off as he held me against him. As footsteps resounded through the room, Adam froze, crushing me against him. "Sam," he growled, the sound ripping through the both of us. I squirmed, and Adam held me tighter. "Lucifer!"

"No," I put my hand on his face. He looked terrified, and even though I had seen his face contorted into more than fear, and into something along the lines of agony, and utter devastation, I couldn't bear to see him terrified. "He's your brother, Sam. Adam," I pulled his face, and his gaze away from a wigged out looking Sam and Noel. "Lucifer is still in the pit." With wide eyes, he swallowed, but nodded. "See?" I whispered. "It's okay." Adam was calming down. "Do you want to leave with us?" I whispered. "You can stay with us until you decide what you want to do."

Adam licked his lips. "That. . . okay." I nodded, and then an awkward silence ensued before we both blushed and pushed away from each other. Stumbling off of the bed, I looked at Sam and Noel's shocked faces. I shoved my hands in my pockets, as Adam sat up, and let his legs dangle off of the edge. We couldn't look at one another, so I looked at both Sam and Noel who uncomfortably exchanged glances.

"Well," I said crossing my arms over my chest. "Let's get him checked up, and get the hell out of here."

They stared at me for a moment before shaking their head simultaneously, as if to clear them. Sam coughed, and raised his dark eyebrows. "On it," then he grabbed Noel by the elbow, and dragged her out behind him. When they were gone, I could finally breath again. Then I turned back to Adam, and found he was staring at his hands which now rested in his lap.

My face softened, and I reached out a hand to him. He looked up when I rested mine on top of his. His eyes seemed distant, and suddenly, I was projected into his mind. _Fear _and _darkness _gripped me as tightly as it hit him. It was Sam, but not Sam. This Sam was the one Adam was so terrified of. Lucifer was wearing Sam's face as he and. . . Dean, but Dean wasn't locked in the pit! These _angels _were using Sam and Dean's appearance to torture their little brother!

I stumbled away from Adam as he sat shaking. With a gasp, I pulled him to me, and after a few moments of stiff silence, he wrapped his arms around my waist, and smashed me against him, shuddering. "I'm so sorry, Adam." I rested my head against his and heaved a heavy sigh. "It's okay now." I whispered. "They're just memories. . Just horrible, awful memories."

He nodded, his hair pressing into my face. He still smelled like the outdoors. His voice was rough, and I could tell he was desperately trying to keep it together as he spoke. "I know." His grip tightened on me. "I _know_."

Then the doctor came in, and checked him over. Within the next hour and a half, we were gone. Adam and I sat in the back seat, and he was the first to fall asleep. He needed it, badly.


	4. Chapter 4

Adam had officially moved into my pa's old room. The Winchesters went back to the Bunker within the next two weeks, due to the angels that had fallen. Unfortunately, we still hadn't figured out how Adam got out, but he was adjusting, slowly, but he was adjusting to life on earth. I'd taken all the pictures in my room down, the moment I had gotten home, and burned them all. I didn't want him to be reminded in anyway, shape, or form. I couldn't.

One afternoon, about three weeks after Adam was found, I stood in the kitchen; over the sink, washing the dishes and preparing supper. Noel sat at the table with her textbooks in front of her, and Elsa. . . well, she had gone with the Winchesters. She was an incurable hunter, and she was too much like pa had been to stay idle for too long. So, we looked after the things she normally did. Directing hunters, and giving advice to those who needed it; this was pa's old job. So, we all held down the fort. Okay, so maybe _I _held down the fort while Noel went to school, but Adam liked to help, and that made quite the difference.

The swinging door banged against one of the cabinets as someone entered. I looked up and my face broke into a toothy grin when Adam stepped behind me. Today he was dressed in jeans, a black t-shirt, and had a button-up thrown over it. He ran a hand through his hair with a soft smirk. "Hey, Clara!" Then he gave a small wave. "Hi Noel," he greeted us both. Noel gave a distracted wave, her head still in her textbook. Adam leaned against the counter, and over my shoulder. "Hmm, dishes. That's. . .boring." He chuckled, and reached over, turning off the facet. I turned to him, crossing my arms with a huff. I started to protest, but Adam put a finger over his lips. "Let me explain." Something glinted in his eye. This was the happiest I'd seen him since he had arrived here. "I'm taking you out for dinner."

"What?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. "Adam, you don't even have a job."

"Hold on," he replied jovially, digging in his pocket until he produced a wad of money. "John may have taught me a thing or two about poker when I was a kid."

I rolled my eyes. "Huh," I grabbed his shirt between my fingers. "So, that's where you've disappeared to for the last hour or two."

"Guilty as charged," Adam grinned, pocketing the wad of cash. "Now are we going or-"

"Please, go!" Noel groaned. She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. "I can't concentrate when the two of you are in here practically screwing on the counter."

Appalled, I stuck my tongue out at her, letting go of Adam's shirt. "We are not!"

"Well, you're flirting like you're going to. Now," she pointed at the door. "Get! Plus, you haven't had a date since high school, Miss I'm-a-twenty-three-year-old-virgin."

My face ignited, and I covered my mouth. Did my sister really just say that?

Adam coughed, before giving a reassuring smile. "Ignore her." Then he took my hand. "Don't wait up, Noel!"

As we pushed through the door she shouted, "Wasn't planning on it, Milligan!"

* * *

Twenty minutes later, we pulled up in front of a bar. I smirked as we got out, and shut the door of the truck my pa had given to me when I was sixteen. I had let Adam drive since he was "taking" me on a date. It was dark, and around eight o'clock as we walked hand-in-hand across the dusty parking lot of a bar called "Gritz." Inside it was an old, cramped place. The floor was made of unpolished wooden planks, several people sat at the bar, and an antique jukebox sat in the corner spinning an oldies song I barely remembered the title of. Several men faced a target and were playing a game of darts facing the wall opposite of the bar. It was dark, and smoky, yet, enjoyable.

The two of us took seats at the bar, and the stocky, coal-haired bartender beamed at us. "Well then, kiddos, what'll it be?"

Adam laughed. "A Budweiser for me. Clara?"

"Old Milwaukee over here," I said as the man turned to get us our orders. Then I turned to Adam, and gave him a shy smile. He returned a slightly more confident one. Flipping my hair over my shoulder, I glanced at him sideways.

He raised his eyebrows. "What?" He laughed lightly. I shrugged, and grabbed my beer when the man slid it to me. "Come on," he whispered, taking a hand and resting it on the arm I had on the top. "You're upset and I can see that." He gave my arm a squeeze. "Tell me," he breathed into my ear.

I swallowed, hard. "I'm not. I'm just. . . remembering. . Somethings."

Adam furrowed his brows, and pressed on. "Like what?"

I licked my lips and turned away from him. "Do you remember the first few days before you. . ." I closed my eyes and shook my head. "Never mind. It's stupid. Let's just-"

"If it's you, it can't be stupid."

I looked back at him, and then studied my beer mug. "Do you remember the days before you. . .went into the pit."

Adam smirked, and took a long drink from his own mug. When he put it down, he looked at me sideways. "You mean, do I remember doing this?" Adam set down his mug, and spun my chair around to face him. Then he tugged me towards him, and planted his own mouth on my lips; soft but urgent. My stomach twisted in excitement, and I kissed back. My hands went to his hair, and his to my hips.

That's when I remembered clearly. The night he was brought to my house. I was twenty, and pa was still alive, but in that stupid wheel chair he hated so damn much. Pa had fallen asleep watching Adam so he wouldn't leave. So, I wheeled him into his room, and left the door open only a crack. He had been exhausted, but he never told anyone. When I came back into the kitchen, Adam was sitting at the table with a beer in his hand. The room was barely lit.

"So, would you let me leave?" he asked, trying to fake innocence.

Ignoring him, I went to the fridge, and pulled out a can of soda, and then I let the door fall closed, leaning against it. "Nice try, mini-Dean."

His face contorted. "I'm appalled you would call me that." Then he smirked, pulling himself up. He was nicely built, not too muscular, and not too scrawny. But I was right, he dressed, and kind of looked like Dean. It didn't help that he had the same prickly demeanor. He crossed the short distance from the kitchen table to me. He stood over me by at least six inches. He pressed a hand against the fridge, leaning over me. His smug face was inches from mine, and I was glaring up at him defiantly. It didn't matter how attractive he was. I wasn't going to let him-

And then Adam Milligan kissed me, and I was fairly sure he barely knew my name.

"Clara?" Present day Adam murmured as he pulled away from me. I opened my eyes, and found we were still in the bar. No one was paying attention to us. I nodded, and tried to fight the smile that was breaking across my face. His was brighter as he went back for another kiss.

* * *

Several hours later, the two of us drunkenly laid on my bed, staring at the darkened ceiling. I didn't even remember how we had made it home. Narrowly, I assumed. My room looked empty without all the pictures taped haphazardly to the wall, but it was better to have Adam out. I curled up against him, with my head on his chest, too drunk to think properly, and he wrapped his warm arms around me. The blankets were pulled around us, and all that could be heard was the sound of our breathing. No, we hadn't slept together. We were both _way_ too drunk for that.

"My head," I grumbled into his shirt. "Why did you let me drink so much?"

He laughed, and I could feel it rumble through me. "I figured you had a higher alcohol tolerance. Your dad seemed to have a pretty good one. Last time I saw him." He tightened his grip on me, but only a bit. "Sorry, that must be painful to think about."

"It's okay," I said softly. "You know how it feels."

"Yeah," Adam muttered, running his fingers through my hair. We were silent for several moments. Then he kissed my forehead. His breath smelled heavily of alcohol, but then again so did mine. "We should get some sleep."He sounded groggy, and quite frankly, it was adorable.

"Okay." I squirmed and kissed him on his cheek. "Goodnight, Adam."

"'Night, Clara." Minutes later, we were both conked out.

Adam woke up screaming. "Hey!" I sat up dizzily, clutching his shirt between my fingers. "Adam! It's me, Clara." He flew up, panting and shaking. His steely-blue eyes frantically scanning the room, and only clearing when they landed on me. "Are you okay?" He slowly shook his head no, and I sighed, hugging him to my chest. I was used to this. Adam always had nightmares. The first few nights he stayed, it was terrible. Every night for the first week he woke up screaming, and I had to stumble across the hall to get to Pa's room. So now, we both crash in the same room. Sometimes we sleep in Pa's old bed because there's simply more room for us to spread out, and sometimes mine because, well, cuddling is fun.

"How do you deal with me?" Adam whispered, pulling away from my arms. "I'm a wreck." He looked down at his hands much like he did when he woke up in the hospital.

"Well," I blushed, thankful for the darkness. I grabbed his larger hands in my small, pale, and frail ones. "You could be my wreck," I whispered.

Adam's deep laugh filled the silence. "Yeah, Clara. I guess I could be." He then became serious as he looked up at me. "Then what are you to me?" He wondered out loud. Then he smiled. "Not to be melodramatic or anything, but you're my savior."

I chortled. "So, I'm the fireman, and you're the remnants of the fire." Adam nodded, and pecked my nose. "Alright then," I gave a lopsided smile. "We should get some more sleep."

Adam yawned. "I agree." Then we both laid down, and fell asleep. He stayed that way for the rest of the night.


End file.
